


Marking Time

by shutterbug



Category: Psych
Genre: Character Death, Death, Denial, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutterbug/pseuds/shutterbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton called her first.  He left a hard-voiced message: “O’Hara, get to the hospital.  Take a cruiser.  Use the siren.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marking Time

Carlton called her first. He left a hard-voiced message: “O’Hara, get to the hospital. Take a cruiser. Use the siren.” Carlton, the king of brevity. 

As she drove, her phone glowed in the cup holder. Another call. Gus. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. _Shawn._ It had to be Shawn. _You’re okay. You’re okay, Shawn. Be okay._ She couldn’t remember when she’d activated the siren, but, when she slammed to a stop in the hospital’s emergency bay, the building flashed with red and blue. Red and blue. 

Carlton stood just inside the sliding doors. No Gus. No Henry. 

No Shawn. 

Just Carlton. 

“Where is he?” she asked, her eyes scanning the waiting room, the corridors. 

He reached for her. “Maybe you should just come over here and have a seat--” 

She back-pedaled. “Where _is_ he?”

Carlton’s hands dove into his pants pockets as he looked down--just a second, but too long. 

“He called 9-1-1. But he must have waited too long, or, or--” 

She stared at him. 

“According to--” he swallowed. “To all the medical reports, it was a heart attack. He was already unconscious when the EMTs found him, and they couldn’t--”

She searched his face. _Heart attack. Unconscious._

“There was nothing they could do.” 

Her feet shuffled forward, sideways, desperate to move. To search every room. Show Carlton proof. Proof that he was _wrong_. 

He inched toward her, touching her shoulder. “Juliet, I’m--”

“No!” She brushed his hand away, wiping at her eyes. She inhaled sharply, struggling, as if all the air in the room weighed down on her chest -- pushed, _crushed_. “No. Healthy hearts just don’t stop. _You_ said that!” She pointed at him. They don’t just _stop_!”

“I know.” 

“He’s just--where _is_ he, Carlton?” 

She started toward the corridor, toward the patients’ rooms, but his hand grasped her elbow and forced her to stop. 

“No,” she said, twisting. “Carlton--stop.” She fought, trying to pry his fingers away, but he held on, pulled her back toward the row of empty chairs. 

He refused to release her until she sat down. 

He let a few silent seconds pass before he spoke again. “This was the only thing he had on him.” 

She blinked, looking down when Carlton held out his hand. Shawn’s wristwatch laid in his open palm. 

Her body moved on its own. Her arm reached out, fingers lifting his watch. Her hand closed around it -- cool metal and glass. She felt its _tick_. 

_Tick, tick._ _Tick_ ing on.

Carlton’s hand slid up her arm and moved to her back. “I’m so sorry. I really am.” 

She barely felt Carlton’s hand as she curled forward in the chair, her mouth opening with silent, breathless sobs as she pressed Shawn’s watch to her chest. 

Marking time.


End file.
